


relative metrics of cleverness

by Heavenward (PreludeInZ)



Series: Thunderbirds Prompts [32]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, There's always been the impression that Gordon's a hell of a lot smarter than he lets on, wonder why that is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7877797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreludeInZ/pseuds/Heavenward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt: Okay... Gordon and Brains, prompt of The True You (cos I like rhymes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	relative metrics of cleverness

Brains has learned the rhythm of the way the boys come down the stairs to the lab. Scott's one-two-one-two, Virgil's heavy stride. Gordon's rapid two-step, and Alan, galloping down the stairs like he's got urgent news. The only time John's had occasion to come down to the lab had been during the most recent spate of downtime, and he'd tripped three steps from the bottom and nearly broken his face. Generously, Brains has considered this occasion to be an outlier. So Brains has no reliable data for John.

And he's never actually heard Kayo come down the stairs. Kayo tends to appear out of nowhere, even though there's only one actual entrance to his lab.

But it's neither here nor there, because the footsteps coming down the stairs are Gordon's, a little too fast and nervewracking to listen to.

"Brains, can I bug you for a minute?"

Knowing Gordon (which admittedly he doesn't, at least not very well), it's likely to be more than a minute. It's likely to take him forever to get to the point, he's likely to meander through the subject and beat around the bush and make amiable small talk while Brains is trying to work. But, he works for the Tracys, and he's on the clock. "O-of course."

"Great! Cool, uh. So, it's about TB4, right? Which is _great_ , by the way, wish I got to take it out more often. Subs, you know, they're really finicky machines and---"

Brains has to start to outline the plan for a retrofit of TB1's engines. It's going to be a massive, expensive project, and complicated. He needs to have it on Jeff's desk by the end of the week. He really doesn't mean to be short when he prompts, "What about TB4?"

"Right! Right, uh. So, there's--you know, there's the thingy on the floor, right? Between the pedal doohickeys. So sometimes if I go down too fast, there's a thing that happens with the way it sticks, like it kinda gets sorta slow? Sticks a bit? I was just, uh, just wondering--"

He doesn't mean to heave a sigh, he really doesn't. It's a testament to how _irritating_ this is that he overcomes his nature and finds himself glaring at Gordon over the rims of his glasses. "M- _must_ you?" he demands and then regrets it immediately. " _Sorry_. Sorry, never mind. So the axial control is lagging. Does it feel like the hydraulics, or is there something g-gumming up the a-actual axis?"

"Uh. Well! So, there's that uh, that metal deal in the middle on the bottom of Four? I dinged the bottom off of a cliff last time I was out, and, like, I think maybe something...umm...like, got knocked kinda wonky or something, not that I--"

Brains doesn't snap very often, but he's had a very long day staring at speculative technical specs, and he'd rather wrangle with something concrete for a while. "G-Gordon. If you would s-spend as much effort explaining the actual problem as you do attempting to sound like an i-idiot then it would save me a l-lot of time."

Whoops. Gordon blinks at him and is momentarily derailed. "Uh..."

Well, he's in it now. "N-no! No more with the 'uhs' and the 'ums'! I don't know why y-you insist on pretending to be stupid whenever you d-discuss Thunderbird Four. I know you're not and it w-wastes my time."

Gordon's cheeks flush and he jams his hands in the pockets of today's board shorts (yellow with red magnolias), looks away and kicks his feet in their sandals. "Aw, man. Sorry. Sorry, I wasn't trying to...I dunno, s'just how you're the tech guy, and I'm...I mean, Virg is the engineer."

Brains sighs and tries to remember that his frame of reference is that of the brilliant only-child of genius parents. Gordon's had to compete with four brothers for his entire life, and knowing he's not the smartest of them, maybe it's a defensive reflex to aggressively be the dumbest. "Y-you have a Bachelor of Science in Marine Geology. I've read a few of your papers, you h-had a GPA of 3.7. I _know_ you're not stupid. I can't even i-imagine what p-purpose that serves."

"Oh." Gordon's just bright red now. "Well, I didn't _know_ you knew I wasn't stupid."

Brains pushes his glasses up to hide the roll of his eyes, and pulls up a notepad on his tablet and poises a pen to make a few notes. "What's wrong with Thunderbird Four?" he prompts again.

"The, uh--sorry, the actuator on the axial control's been knocked out of alignment and the hydraulics may've leaked into the mechanism. I hit the thermocline below two thousand meters before I realized there was a leak and the temperature change seems like it's separated the hydraulic fluid."

"Noted. N-not a difficult fix. Wasn't that easier?"

Gordon spreads his palms. "Look man, I'm just doing my thing. I won't do it again."

"W-why pretend?"

Gordon shrugs and grins a little awkwardly. His manner's already changed, the uhs and ums have dropped off the radar. "Social lubrication. Guess it's a reflex. I'm not as smart as my brothers, but I'm still a hell of a lot smarter than a lot of the people I went to school with. And, uh. Well, it's intimidating. You know? When you're the smart guy. I never liked intimidating people. John, you get him started on started on one of his nerd things and pretty quick he's left you in the dust, because he forgets not everyone's an astrophysicist. Virgil, he gets frustrated with anyone who can't disassemble an engine in their head the way he can, he'll throw up his hands and just leave. I dunno. I just always thought I'd rather be friendly than smart."

Brains shakes his head. "Well, please don't. There's nothing intimidating about your intelligence."

The grin widens and Gordon gives another shrug, taps the side of his nose. "It's possible," he suggests, and winks, "that I wasn't talking about me." He rocks for a moment on his heels and then gives a bit of a wave before turning back towards the stairs. "See ya 'round, Brains."


End file.
